


Dragon Angst

by mewties (icantbelieveitsnotmeulin)



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Angst, Bad Ending, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Humor, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-26
Updated: 2015-09-26
Packaged: 2018-04-23 09:52:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 6,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4872313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icantbelieveitsnotmeulin/pseuds/mewties
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of fics written based on angst prompts from my best friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. When She Loved Me

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: "She never loved you", Morrigan

"She never loved you"

Morrigan pulls her lips back into a snarl, ready to snap back at you in response, before her eyes widen, and her face falls. Everything about her seems to withdraw, grow cold. If you look closely, you can see her begin to tremble.

She thought, at first, that you meant her mother. But everyone knows her mother never loved her.

And then she realized who you really meant.

" _No_." The word comes hollow and quiet.

Tears begin to well in her eyes, though she seems unfazed by them, swelling up with rage. "No! You didn't know her, you never-" She cuts herself off. "She wouldn't **_lie_** to me, she'd never-" Her fingers curl inward, and she hunches her shoulders forward, drawing into herself. She begins to cry.

She chokes out more between her haggard breaths. "I called her sister, she...she said she was honored...." Her voice and her sobs grow quieter. "I only did it for her safety...she said...she wasn't angry..."

"She didn't lie...she wouldn't lie...you're **_wrong_**..."

She finds the nearest wall and backs against it, sliding down and hiding her head. The quiet sounds of her cries leave you satisfied. She fights back no longer. You have done your damage.


	2. The King's Ire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "She never loved you," Alistair

“She never loved you.”

Alistair, when you speak to him, reacts with anger. The king is not nearly as imposing as his queen, but he gets a few steps closer as he seethes.

"You're _**lying**_." His tone is accusatory, vicious. You try to needle him. What if it was all a lie? He was a good screw that ended up being a stepping stone for greater power. His eyes remain closed as you speak again, his lips held tight, nose crinkled. His rage does not abate.

"No, no, stop. You don't know _**anything**_ about my wife." He cuts you off with a wave of his hand. "My wife does not LIE, my wife does not manipulate people or...string them along, to get more." He begins pointing at you, raising his voice and his stance as he continues. "My _**wife**_ is a loyal, caring woman, who treasures her family, and my wife not being here right now is the best thing possible for you, because she reacts _baaaadly_ to such slander." He laughs when he draws out "badly," a cruel hint to the chuckle. He inhales and goes back to his normal composure.

"Luckily for you, I am far more merciful!" His expression falls, stony and serious. "Get out. I never want to see your face again. You show yourself in front of my family once more, and I will have you thrown in the dungeon." He seethes the last phrase through gritted teeth before turning and leaving.

You make haste to leave the castle, the guards all following you with their gaze on the way.


	3. A Sea of Drink

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "You're the reason they're all dead," Isabela

“You’re the reason they’re all dead!”

The so-called pirate queen downs the rest of her drink before slamming it down on the bar table. "Don't you think I know that? Why do you think I'm on my fourth round?" She waves at the bartender for another. "Thought we knew what we were getting into. That dreadnaught was worse than we thought..." She isn't looking at you, she's staring off into space behind the bar. She's surprisingly calm about it.

"Can't say they weren't aware they might die. We all were. Always were. Fuck, it was practically _given_." She gets her new drink and takes another swig. She sets it down again. That distant gaze is sadder now. "I can't say I won't miss them. They were my crew. I..."

She shakes her head and looks bitterly into her cup. "No use dwelling on the past." She downs it and slams it down again, looking at it with determination. "All I can do is get it back."

The door to the Hanged Man opens, and Isabela perks up, looking over your shoulder at the new arrival. She stands with surprising ease and pushes past you. "Hawke!" She calls. "Bring me something interesting~?"


	4. A Shallow Grave

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "You're the reason they're all dead," Elise Cousland (my warden)

“You’re the reason they’re dead! You were too weak to protect anyone!"

Your reflexes are not fast enough. You feel her hand clench around your throat before you see it. She lifts you off your feet with that hand, pushing you up against the outer wall of a nearby building. If looks could kill, the glare she gives you could bore through steel, through you, straight through the wall behind you, and keep going.

"Shut. _Up_." Her voice is quiet. Tight. Restrained. Carefully held back as to not make much of a scene, here in the shaded alley you mistakenly thought to approach her in. But the menace in them is clear. You can feel the anger flowing through her, through the hand tightening around your windpipe, but it does not radiate off her. It is all, somehow, contained, concentrated within the surprisingly small woman before you.

Your breaths are now exclusively shallow wheezes. You can say no more, barely think, as panic fills your thoughts and you claw with no avail at her armored fingers. That glare remains, and she pushes your harder against the wall, her grip tightening again. You recognize on a conscious level that you may actually die here. You are going to die in an alley in Denerim trying to bruise a woman stronger than you.

Before the blackness engulfs your vision, you hear a male voice call out. "Elise!" Her head turns, and your gaze does too on reflex. One of her reported companions is at the mouth of the alley, the other Warden. She releases your neck and you crumple to your hands and knees, gasping and choking for air. She walks away, toward her so-called lover, and you can hear their voices as a low buzz in your ear. You don't care what they're saying. You weren't paid enough for this.


	5. Failure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “I’ll use your greatest weaknesses against you, and you know I know them all," said to Cullen

He had miscalculated. Rosanna- no, the Inquisitor, was supposed to be taking care of Samson. He wasn't supposed to come out to the front lines. Yet here he was, and the surprise had been enough to catch Cullen off-guard, even for a moment. He'd been knocked to his knees and struggled to catch his breath.

Samson strode over slowly, looking down on him. Cullen could practically hear the smug, gloating grin on his face.

" _This_ is the might of the Inquisition? So in the end, it really was nothing." Cullen could see his boots, feel the force of the red lyrium that made up his armor. It was powerful, frightening, a little enticing-

"But don't worry, old friend. I'll make sure you won't see the same fate as your Inquisitor." Cullen looks up, eyes wide with fear. Samson squats beside him, a twisted grin spread across his face.

"What are you going to do," Cullen growls. Samson chuckles, standing again. He had meant to Rosanna, but Samson goes in the other direction.

"You're strong, Cullen. You always have been." Samson's tone is matter-of-fact, as if he was discussing something as simple as job placement. "It would be a shame to waste that. Instead, we'll put you to greater use, serving Corypheus and his army."

Cullen spat. "Over my dead body!"

Samson snorts, amused. "You won't have a choice." He grabs Cullen's shoulder, pulling him up to his feet. “I’ll use your greatest weaknesses against you, and you know I know them _all.”_

The color drains from Cullen's face. The close proximity of the red lyrium does not help the fear rising in him. Two red templars come up from behind him, grabbing both of his arms, as Samson begins pacing away again.

"Red lyrium is _muuuch_ stronger than what they gave us in the chantry! Many recruits don't even survive their contact." Cullen tries to fight free, but the templars cling to him with inhuman strength. So many things run through his mind - how long has it been since he's heard a report back on the progress of the Inquisitor's group?

"But I have faith in you, Cullen. You'll survive. And then you can rejoin your brothers and sisters again." At the end of Samson's words, he feels two hands drive familiar lyrium apparatuses into his neck.

He whispers two words before everything becomes the lyrium's songs.

" _Forgive me_."


	6. Bitter Reunions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Who could love you besides me," to Morrigan

Drinking from the Well of Souls had been Morrigan’s biggest mistake. Now, she stood here, in the Fade, forced to speak with the mother whom she fought so hard to leave behind forever. The smug smile on Flemeth’s face only served to make the ordeal worse.

“Why have you called me here now, Mother?” Morrigan asked bitterly. “What more do you want to try and take from me?”

“ _Take_ from you?” She sounded insulted, incredulous. “My dear daughter, you know all I ever sought to do was keep you _safe_.” Even when she tried to sound sympathetic, her mother’s voice was condescending. But she would not fall for Flemeth’s manipulations.

“Keep me **_safe_**?!” She echoed indignantly. “You kept me from the world, made it so even when you let me go into the world I wanted to see, I wouldn’t want to stray from your side!”

“I did everything because I _love_ you-“

“You did everything so I would be **_dependent_** on you!” Morrigan cried, her voice almost cracking. “All you wanted was a vessel, a _puppet_. You never loved me.”

“If not even I, then who else could?” Flemeth raised an eyebrow. The lines on her face were plentiful. Her lips grew into a triumphant smirk. The words cut close to Morrigan’s heart. She knew this. Morrigan winced, but she straightened her back. She was not the vulnerable girl she had once been.

“Kieran.” She replied. The hands she’d balled into fists shook. She was nervous. This was still new, still scary – especially considering what bound her now. But her voice stayed level, and as she gained momentum, she felt more confident. “The son I raised with care and comfort – the exact opposite of how I was raised by **_you_**.” Flemeth frowned. She leaned back, her nostrils flaring with distaste. Morrigan did not want to stop.

“And let us not forget the Warden, Mother!” She laughed, triumphant, bitter, broken. “Or did you not recall exactly what your little mission called for? Have you blocked from your old, withered mind that she stood up and struck you down to ensure my safety? That she trusted my word and trusted me with the man she loved? I’m sure you never accounted for the thought that by sending me with them, I might learn what it was like to have someone really _**care**_ about you! And that I’d finally recognize what you did to me all those years!” She was on the verge of tears, screaming at Flemeth and into the Fade itself. She could feel the spirits coming near, drawn by her pain. She should not stay here much longer. The weight of the consequences grew every moment. She locked eyes with her mother, a spark in the tension between them.

“ _I won’t be used by you any longer_.” She felt a shiver down her spine from the power of finally saying those words. This was the perfect time now for her exit, turning her back to her mother and heading towards the Eluvian. Behind her, she heard Flemeth chuckle.

“Oh, you will, child. You chose that fate yourself. You always will.”

Morrigan closed her eyes and winced in regret before she passed back through to Skyhold.


	7. Bad Dreams

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "How does it feel, knowing you brought another bastard into this world?," to Alistair

They had gotten the news earlier from the scouts, that a woman matching Morrigan’s description was seen heading towards Orlais. It seemed as if she were with child, they said. His wife had dismissed it, but they both knew it was her. And even though he had always been aware on some level of what had happened that night, the confirmation formed a pit of dread in his stomach.

That feeling remained well into the night, even as he lay beside his beloved to sleep. Did it haunt her the same way it haunted him? No, that wasn’t possible. It would never be exactly the same, because she didn’t bear the same guilt he did. The sentiment bore into his dreams.

“So, Alistair!” It had been so long since he’d heard her lilting, taunting voice, like needles being slowly jabbed into him. “How does it feel, knowing you’ve created yet another bastard? Another child doomed to live with the same stigma, all because of you!”

His nose crinkled in frustration. “I only did it so she-“

“What, so she could live? _Please_. As if that were an excuse.” That smug smile, it reminded him of her mother. “If that was what you wanted, you could have taken the final blow. But you were too _scared_ , weren’t you? You were selfish, you didn’t **_want_** to die, and so you went through with it. And all so you could live with her! All for your own desires. Just like your father!” Her face twisted into a wide, hellish grin, a caricature of a human. It cackled loudly, and he put his hands over his ears. “NO! _**STOP**_!!!”

Alistair sat up in his bed, panting heavily. At his shouting (and probably the draft, as he’d ripped the covers up with him), Elise rolled over, glaring at him tiredly in the darkness.

“What?” She mumbled, in that cute way she did when she was still half asleep. Surely it still bothered her, right? He got that sense from the way she avoided all mention of that part of the report as they spoke before bed.

“It was nothing, dear. Just a bad dream.”

She rolled back over, reaching up to his shoulder and pushing him back down onto his pillow. He stared at the back of her head briefly before moving closer, wrapping his arms around her waist and resting his head on her shoulder.

“Everything I did that night, I did for you.” He murmured it gently into her ear, knowing she hadn’t fallen asleep just yet.

“You know if it were different, I would have never asked.”

They said no more, both understanding that the only ones who blamed them were themselves.


	8. Black Pearls, Blackmail

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Beg me, and I might consider keeping my mouth shut," to Isabela

Isabela leaned up against the wall of the nondescript building behind her. “Alright, Lucky. What do you want?”

“I figured it out, you know. Who else wants that thing you’re looking for.”

Isabela looks at her nails and not at him, disinterested. “I thought I told you that. How little attention did you pay to what I was **_saying_**? No wonder your information was so useless.”

“Not the cock who hired you to get it, _ **Is-a-be-la**_!” He sneered her name. “The ones you stole it from. There’s a reason the Qunari haven’t left Kirkwall, and it ain’t lack of ships.” He watched with triumph as she froze. Paling slightly, she finally looked up at him.

“And what’re you going to do with that, Lucky? You know I’ve tossed you around before.” She began to reach for her daggers.

“Me ‘n’ my boys? Yeah, you can take us….but the Qunari? Suppose I tell them?” He crossed his arms. “D’ya really think you can take all’v them on?”

She lowered her hands again, glaring at him. “What d’you want? And no matter what, I’m not tossing you a bone here-”

“ _Beg_ ,” He said. “Beg me, and I might consider keeping my mouth shut.” She seemed to swell with rage.

“If you think I’m going to beg-“

He cut her off, drawing his sword and pointing it at her. “You humiliated me enough times already! Now it’s time fer you to return the favor!” Having her attention, he put his sword away. “Now beg, or I go tell our big grey friends just who it is they’re looking for.”

She sulked, leaning back against the wall, and mumbled something.

“Sorry? What was that?” He put a hand up to his ear and turned it towards her. “I’m waiting!”

“Please, Lucky. Don’t tell them. You know how bad my ass depends on it.” She looked away, but the defeat written in the lines of her mouth and the gaze she gave the ground was enough.

“That’s a good girl! Not so tough when you’re not on top.” He laughed loudly, turning from her and walking away.

“You’ll get what’s coming to you, Lucky! Just you wait!” Isabela called after him, but she was only met with louder laughter.


	9. Dark Divinity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “You’re not human! You’re a monster!", Rosanna Trevelyan (my Inquisitor) to Leliana

“They will see. I will make them see.” Leliana vowed, as she spoke of her proposed reforms. It sounded less like a faithful pledge and more like a veiled threat. “Ah, but I am not Divine…not **_yet_**.”

Rosanna shook her head. “No, and I pray you never will be. I don’t know why you’ve gone down this path, but you’re not human anymore. You’re a _monster_.”

Leliana turned like a snake ready to strike. “A _monster_?” She echoed, taking sharp steps towards the Inquisitor, her fingers steepled. “You did not call me a monster when what I spoke of was for the Inquisition. You did not say **_anything_**. You ordered my people as you pleased, when it suited your needs. But **_I_ ** am the monster?”

Rosanna backed up, bumping into one of Leliana’s stools. “Leliana, that’s different. You can’t just kill people to force change-“

“Is that not what you are doing? Is that not what we are _all_ doing here?” Leliana’s menacing advance did not stop. “How many of our enemies do we cut down rather than charm? Why is it any different if it is the Commander’s way instead of mine?”

Rosanna was up against the wall now. “Leliana, please, you’re scaring-“

Leliana leaned in close. “Perhaps what is scaring you is knowing I am right,” she breathed. She straightened her back, looking satisfied. “You will have time to come around. For now, it is merely a difference in opinion.” It felt like a lot more than that. “It shall not impede my duties.” She turned away, and Rosanna watched her warily. If Leliana became Divine, and Rosanna’s feelings did not change, would she have to check her tea for poison?


	10. Shattered Memories

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I never loved you," Alistair to Elise

It was the queen, initially, who was called upon for this task. There were some darkspawn sighted in the cellar of a storehouse. They came to her as the Warden-Commander of Ferelden, but she saw no point in sending a call all the way to Amaranthine to answer a summons in Denerim. She would take care of it herself.

“I’m going with you,” her king immediately interjected. Elise raised an eyebrow.

“Your Majesty, please, I am sure the Queen will be enough! For something so minor, her presence is already-“ Alistair cut off the courier delivering the message.

“No, I rather miss the whole Grey Warden thing! Killing darkspawn, getting my armor dirty, being tossed around by ogres…..ahhh, good times.” He sighed, misty-eyed, a fond smile on his face. The courier looked perturbed. Elise just snorted.

“Then it’s settled! The Queen-“ Alistair stopped himself, grinning cheesily. “Sorry, the Warden-Commander and I shall see to it this afternoon.” The courier knelt and bowed before leaving the throne room. The doors closed behind him with a dull thunk and a faint click.

Elise leaned her head slightly towards her husband. “Darling, you wanting to come with me doesn’t have anything to do with Eamon needing to go over the vassal tributes with you, does it?” She asked lightly, though the accusation pierced like a pike through his chest. He laughed nervously.

“Of course not!” He took her hand gently and looked to her. “I really do miss getting to go do things like this with you.”

She smiled, running her thumb over his fingers. “I’ll sit through it with you.”

“Oh thank the Maker.”

They donned their old armor and prepared some basic supplies. Most darkspawn were nothing for them to take down, but Alistair insisted. “No harm in being over-prepared!” He said upon her protestations. She let him go. She was well used to his fretting and fears, and it was better this way. Plus, if they needed a poultice and didn’t have one, she’d never hear the end of it. Despite his childish and carefree attitude, at times he could be quite the mother hen. It was a little endearing.

The door of the warehouse was unlocked. They couldn’t hear anyone on the main floor. “Hello!” Elise called, one hand beside her mouth, hoping to carry the call. They received no answer. The pair shared a perturbed glance.

“…Perhaps they all left due to the darkspawn,” Alistair suggested. Elise made an affirming noise in response, heading towards the cellar stairs she spotted from across the room.

It was a bit of a walk down, but they could hear some scraping and thudding. As they neared the door, the two drew their weapons. Elise and Alistair looked at each other, both giving the other a brief nod, before pushing open the door.

What awaited them on the other side was not a darkspawn, but something more threatening. The twisted flesh across its face and body marked it as one thing: abomination. This one was different from the sloth abomination; there was skin stretched around its head like a hood.

“Oh, _Maker_.” Alistair lamented. Elise said something far less refined. The abomination reached out its hands to both of their faces.

Elise awoke on the cold stone cellar floor. Her head ached; she put one hand on it as she pushed herself back to her feet. She surveyed her surroundings; two genlocks and two hurlocks, dead on the ground. An ogre corpse in the middle of the floor, with what looked like the abomination beneath it. So there were darkspawn, after all.

“Oh, finally, you get up!” Alistair remarked. He stood about a person’s length away from her, sword still in his hand. “I almost thought you died on me.” She winced, hand still on her head.

“What happened?”

“Well, soon as we opened the door, that abomination tried attacking us. Put you right out, but I managed,” He replied dryly. “That’s when the darkspawn started pouring in. But don’t worry! I took care of them!”

Her head throbbed. “Nn…thank you, Alistair…”

“Maker, if I knew you were going to become useless so quickly, I never would have married you!”

She looked up at him now, perturbed. The words sounded like Alistair’s, but they had none of the right inflection. If he said something like that, he’d be teasing, a big, joking smirk on his face. But right now, he held none of that. He was stony, blunt, serious.

“I’m sorry?” Perhaps she’d heard him wrong. Her head was killing her, after all.

He sighed, annoyed. “I said that had I known you’d be this weak within two years of marriage, I would’ve never bothered keeping you around.” He locked eyes with her, looking over her astonished face. “What? Did you think I really _loved_ you?” He asked, before bursting out laughing.

“Stop.”

He didn’t hear her and kept going. “As if anyone could love a beast like you! Really, are you even human?” He roared with laughter, tilting his head back. As much as she hated it, she felt herself break. She stood frozen in shock for a moment, her arms useless at her sides, mouth open, eyes wide. Tears began to bud at the corners of her vision.

No more of this. Her fingers balled into fists, and she lunged at her husband, swinging her right fist into his cheek with all her might. He stopped laughing just soon enough to see her and realize what was going on. The look of shock on his face was priceless.

He was slammed towards the floor, his head thudding against the cold stone. Almost immediately, he pushed himself back up.

“ _Ahh…_ ” He winced, rubbing and adjusting his jaw. “What in the blazes was **that** for?!”

“What have you done to my husband.” Her voice was low. She didn’t even look him in the eye.

“What?” He asked, but she buried her fist in his jaw again.

“ ** _WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO MY HUSBAND_**?!” She roared down at him. Her head throbbed and buzzed terribly, this-

“Maker’s breath, I haven’t done anything, you daft woman, I _**am**_ your-“

“ **NO**!!” Her shouts turned to shrieks, ripping out of her throat and aggravating the buzzing. “Don’t lie to me, stop saying those things with his face!!” The collected tears started running down her cheeks.

Her husband’s nose curled up in distaste. “Bloody humans-“ It growled, before lunging up at her with inhuman speed. The demon kept her husband’s face. She swung her sword to take it off his neck.

Its body faded away into an incorporeal dust. Elise took a few steps back, burying her face in her hands and choking out her remaining sobs. The illusions in the room around her began to fall apart as well. She looked up from her tears in time to see the room starting to disappear.

The last time she had been in the Fade, trapped by a demon, had been different. There were pedestals, and many puzzles, and layers to keep her from leaving. The Despair demon was either more confident or more stupid than the Sloth demon, as it seemed to think it could’ve kept them there forever. The only hope she had was that the doors of the illusions would link to each other. She spotted a door across the dissolving room and ran to it, tossing it open and rushing down the hall it revealed.

The halls seemed solid the more she went through them, which she hoped was a good sign. The doors kept leading to more and more connecting halls, until finally, she threw open a door that lead to the same scene she'd seen before. Only now, there were two of her.

Past all the darkspawn corpses, Alistair knelt on the ground. He looked as broken as she’d felt before, shattered to the very core. He stared up at his tormentor, a face she’d unfortunately expected, but nonetheless dreaded, to see: her own. The demon using her face taunted him.

"Oh please, Alistair! You're _weak_! You're **_hopeless_**! And you thought a bastard like you could ever deserve _me_." Elise watched her face contort into a wicked, smug smirk. His eyelids trembled before he lowered his head, submitting to the onslaught.

"You're right," he replied. His voice was hollow. He looked about the same.

“Alistair! You’re wrong!” Elise shouted, cupping both hands around her mouth. For whatever reason, he couldn’t seem to hear her. All he heard were her double’s continued taunts.

"That's a good boy," The demon crooned with her voice.

Elise tried walking forward, but a force pushed back against her. She leaned into it, refusing to back down.

"Alistair-!"

"I don't need you....Ferelden doesn't need you..."

"Alistair, don't listen!"

"You'd be better off just dying here."

She watched him nod feebly. "You're right."

A look of satisfaction on her face, the demon pretending to be queen raised her sword. Not far behind her, Elise drew her own.

She raised it up in order to swing the blade down through his neck. His head remained bowed, waiting for the blow. "Your death will mark Ferelden's betterment," the demon whispered.

“You’re right!” Elise shouted, raising her own blade up and plunging it through the heart of her second self. The demon shrieked, bursting before the remains faded into that same ash. Panting, she looked down to see her husband staring up at her, confused.

“What…just happened?” He asked, his mouth slowly forming the words. “There were just two of you, and you were going to kill me, and…” He trailed off, looking away and thinking. “Maker, I was just going to give up, wasn’t I?”

Elise reached down, offering him a hand and pulling him back up to his feet. “You were. You always fall for these things. You would have made the worst Templar.”

Alistair chuckled. “You’re right, I really would have.” He rubbed the back of his head. “Though I don’t think I make a very good King, either.”

“Nonsense.” Elise retorted bluntly. “You make a fine King. A finer one if you stop skipping your duties to go play with your wife,” she teased. That got a weak chuckle out of him, which satisfied her. “Now let’s go find this demon and kill it for good.” He nodded, and she led them through another door.

The Despair demon shrieked as they entered its sanctum, devoid of much but ice. Its claws went up around its hooded face, and it tried to blast them with its bone-chilling breath. The pair threw up their shields, deflecting the blasts, and parted to flank the demon. It turned back and forth between them, now unsure which to attack, and was met with two blades swung in perfect harmony. With another shriek, it tried to dart away, but they had it again. It fell like it had expected them to: with no hope of escape.

A little ragged in mind and body alike, the royal pair arose from the basement and exited the warehouse, having been freed from the Fade.

“We have to screen these requests from now on.”

“ ** _Yes_**.”


	11. Hard Rock

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “What, can’t take a punch?”, to Shale

“What? Can’t take a punch?” Alistair joked, nudging Shale’s rocky abdomen with his fist. She thrust her arm sideways, knocking straight into his head and sending him flying.

“On the contrary,” Shale replied. “You should be more careful of that squishy body of yours.”

“ **SHALE, NO**.” Shale rolled their eyes. It was too protective of It’s little child man. Shale was sure It could do better.


	12. Deep Dark Nightmares

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “You’re so stupid. So weak,” to Cullen

There was darkness.

It did not linger for long; it never lingered very long. A wash of visions overtook him, and with each, the emotions he’d felt rushed through him. He saw the mages he’d known as charges, considered friends, as their flesh distorted, bulged, rippled. How they screamed as the demons took over. The tears that came from their eyes as their consciousness clung but their bodies no longer obeyed, long, monstrous fingers ripping the necks of everyone around them. He’d had to strike them down, the ones that remained, or else they would have killed him, too. But he couldn’t forget that he could still see their faces beneath the disfigurement. He couldn’t forgive himself.

The way his heart seized when Knight-Commander Meredith drew a sword made of red lyrium on all who gathered. The rush of guilt that he hadn’t stopped her sooner. Going over in his mind every instance his instincts told him she was going too far, and that he’d never said anything. How many innocents were dead because of his cowardice?

Then the memories inevitably gave way to fears. Feeling the pulse of lyrium through his veins once more, the power it gave him, the confidence, but with it, the pull that said he’d never escape. Seeker Cassandra’s scoff of disgust, her arms crossed, nose upturned. “You’re weak, Cullen. How could you be so stupid?” The Inquisitor’s – Rosanna’s – look of disappointment. She turned away from him slightly, hugging her arms and not meeting his gaze. “Cullen…how can I trust you if you couldn’t even go through with this?” His family, his sisters, angry. “You just gave up? Wasn’t being a Templar supposed to be your dream?” He tried to speak to each of them, to explain, refute, clear his name, but as hard as he tried, no words came out. He just had to take it, until-

A hand on his chest and a concerned voice calling his name. “Cullen!” His eyes snapped open. Rosanna, sitting on the other half of his bed, looking down at him, eyes full of concern. He breathed a sigh of relief.

“Bad dream?” She asked quietly.

“They always are,” He replied, resigned. “Without lyrium, they’re worse.”


	13. Friend Fiction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Who would’ve thought a sweet thing like you would have such a secret?”, to Cassandra

“My, my, Seeker!" Varric chuckled from in front of his writing desk, working on the latest draft of the next Hard in Hightown. Cassandra Pentaghast stood before him, arms folded, looking down at him with impatience etched into every bit of her face. "Now who would have thought a sweet thing like you would have such a secret?" He teased, looking up from his writings. She drew up her nose, scoffing in disgust.

"It is bad enough the Inquisitor actually told you of my... _activities_." Cassandra said. "But at least now I can be direct with you about it. Where is the latest chapter?"

"Seeker, Seeker, _Seeker_. Don't you know you can't rush the creative process?" Varric was enjoying this. "Writing takes time, effort, **_inspiration_**! You can't just write good smut off the cuff!"

"I have seen you do it already. **Twice**." Cassandra retorted bluntly. "Your take on the romantic escapades of the Inquisitor and the Commander were amusing, if overdone and misinformed."

"So you don't think Curly would try and pin her against a banister? Noted."

"Stop _stalling_ , Varric!" Cassandra stamped her foot down impatiently, before taking a deep breath and regaining her composure. "The latest chapter of Swords and Shields, if you have it. **_Please_**."

He went back to his writings and grabbed a stack of papers from his desk, extending them towards her. "Here, Seeker. You can use the stool in the corner if you want. Either way, I expect feedback."


	14. Thoughts on the Future

“Actually, Eamon, could you excuse me for one minute?” Alistair asked, looking over his shoulder. His wife had excused herself a few minutes ago, and the absence felt abnormally long to him. The smile the former-arl-turned-advisor gave crinkled the lines beside his eyes, and he inclined his head.

“Of course, your Majesty.” He watched the young king dart off down the hall, all too familiar with the look of concern on Alistair’s face. Eamon let out a soft sigh; the look of a soon-to-be father. He was hesitant to tell his former ward that this only marked the beginning of the worries.

Alistair was lucky. She’d left the door open a crack, allowing him to notice her standing there with a quick glance inward. Probably not thinking fully, used to the force of her swing being able to shut a door. She stood by the far wall, facing it. Begrudgingly, she’d been wearing dresses, and this one was a soft peach, in stark contrast to the flexible armor plating she insisted on wearing over it. The metal of the pauldrons gleamed in the light from the setting sun that streamed in through the window.

Gingerly, he pushed the door open enough to allow himself to walk inside. “Darling?” He called out. No response, but a short sniffle. He noticed she had her arms crossed, holding her elbows. A vague sense of fear gripped him, and he came farther in, hurrying up behind her. “Elise, what’s wrong?!” Was she hurt? Was it something with the baby? Was-

She let out a frustrated groan, tilting her head back slightly, and followed it with another sniffle. He could see her eyes and cheeks were wet from tears, and more gathered as he watched.

“I’m _**fine**_ ,” she replied, clearly agitated. “There is nothing wrong! I could just feel myself getting… **emotional** , and I wanted to leave.” She gestured angrily as she spoke. He felt a bit relieved, and couldn’t help but chuckle.

“You know, it’s normal to have feelings, right?” He teased, wrapping his arms around her from behind and kissing the side of her face. “Especially when you’re with child.”

“I don’t like it,” she pouted. “I don’t want people to see me cry. They might think I’m showing weakness.”

“And me?” He murmured gently, resting his head on her shoulder. He started to rock her gently from side to side.

“You’re **different**. And you cry more than I do.” He let out a soft laugh, and they stayed as they were in silence for a few moments.

“…He won’t have any grandparents.”

She was so quiet, so still, in that moment. So this is what was bothering her.

“No, our child will not.”

“And we won’t be around for long, either.” He knew he couldn’t argue. Instead, he pulled her tighter.

“No, we will not.” He raised his head up from her shoulder. “But we’ll be around long enough to see them grow into a fine young adult. Just like we were. We should have that much time.” She didn’t argue, but she still looked unhappy. There was more silence.

“Alistair.” She looked up at him, and those sharp eyes of hers were wide, softened by their size and by the tears threatening to spill from them. “I’m scared.”

“I know.” She knew he was, too. “But we took down a Blight in a year! Parenthood will only be slightly harder than that.” It got a chuckle out of her, and he grinned from his victory. He brought his head beside hers, wrapping his arms around her shoulders.

“Our child will have heroes of modern legend for parents, and will be born to a kingdom that will no doubt love him. Even after we are gone, he will still be cared for,” He told her. She rested her hands on her protruding womb. “So don’t fret too much, love. You always do the impossible, somehow.” He felt her lean back against him, and one of her hands went to wipe the last few tears from her eyes.

“Feeling better?” He asked quietly.

“Yes.”

“Good.” He paused. “So when did anyone say we were having a boy?”

He felt her spine straighten and her head tilt back slightly, in that way she did when she was being haughty. “No one. I just have a feeling.”

“Getting mother’s intuition already, eh?” He teased. “If you’re wrong, I’m putting our daughter in the frilliest dresses you can imagine.”

“I am _**never**_ wrong!” She replied.

“Right, right. And, ah, what about that time with-“

“ **OUT**! **GET OUT**!” She turned around and raised her arms over her head, shooing him out of the room while he laughed and pretended to cower. Many months later, he’d sit there, staring over his baby boy, and thinking she was right. About everything, she was right.


End file.
